


Once Was Quite Enough

by PyroKlepto



Category: Psych
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6338431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroKlepto/pseuds/PyroKlepto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Carlton Lassiter is relieved from his job as the detective of the Seattle Police Department, it feels as though he has hit rock bottom and will never be able to climb out again. So he tries for a new start, pursuing other passions he once had as a teenager, and trying to put aside the past - because if he thinks too much on what he had and lost, he may not be able to take it. But as time passes, he slowly begins to find that perhaps his life hasn't been shattered quite just yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allthingsholy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsholy/gifts).



> The inspiration for this came from andthenisay on Tumblr, also known as allthingsholy here on AO3. The post I was inspired by can be found here: http://andthenisay.tumblr.com/post/107473074252/literally-someone-write-a-hipster-au-a-coffee-shop
> 
> So this isn't set in Portland, it's set in Seattle. One reason for that is that I live in Seattle myself, so it's a more familiar setting to write in. The other reason is that Timothy Omundson himself lived and grew up here, so why not? I hope you don't mind that I switched it from Portland, allthingsholy; the two places are similar from what I hear, at least.
> 
> And yes! Enjoy the first chapter of this hopefully-full-length fic featuring Lassiter's struggles with 'civilian' life, and his struggle with those pesky things called _emotions_.

__

“ _No time for the complexities of conversation_  
_No time for smiles, no time for knowing_  
_No time for the intricacies of explanation_  
_No time for sharing, even less for showing…”_

One hand appeared from a pile of blankets, fumbling for the alarm and smacking onto it, cutting the song off short.

No time indeed.

Lassiter dragged himself out of bed, untangling himself from the blankets and stumbling over to the window. Rain fell steadily, droplets of water chasing each other down the glass pane. People with umbrellas milled about below, talking and walking to their jobs and disappearing into coffeeshops for their morning buzz.

With a tired sigh, Lassiter raked a hand through his hair and made his way into the bathroom. He stared into the mirror, feeling no small level of loathing for the shadows beneath blue eyes and the stubble and the haggard expression he saw staring back at him.

“No one to blame but yourself, you idiot.”

He brushed his teeth and then made his way toward the shower. He had another long day ahead of him, and the least he could do was attempt to be more or less refreshed for it.

 

_“Chief, you can’t seriously think I killed him!”_

_“Witnesses say they saw you threaten him a day before his death, Carlton.”_

_“I--okay, I might have… look, okay, I may have lost my temper, briefly. But I didn’t kill him.”_

_“Carlton, I know. We’ve already proven your innocence.”_

_Lassiter set his jaw, flexing his fingers in and out of a fist. “Then why are you doing this? If I didn’t kill him, what’s your reasoning for--”_

_“My reasoning for it is your temper.” The chief sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ve lost your temper more than once. This time, it nearly sent you to prison, and it has definitely cast an ugly shadow over the department. We have no other choice.”_

_“Bad press is bad press! Of course you have another choice. Keep me here. I might have a temper, but I do my job and I do it well.”_

_“Look, I wish there was something else to do, but there isn’t. You are being relieved from your position here with the department.”_

_She held her hand out. For the badge, of course. “I’m sorry.”_

 

Lassiter downed the rest of his coffee, his toast - dry, as usual, without anything on it - lying forgotten on the plate on the table. He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, not bothering to throw the food away or eat it.

Checking his phone, he noted that it was nearly a quarter past 9am. Nearly time to make his way to the audition a few blocks away.

He glanced down at himself, straightening wrinkles in his clothing - a greyish-blue button-up shirt, a pair of dark jeans, and a black jacket. It felt strange; he was so used to wearing suits that going anywhere without one made him feel naked, almost.

But he knew the dos and don’ts well enough - wearing a suit to auditions made it look like you were trying too hard, and trying to compensate for bad acting by looking stylish. He knew the drill from back when he was a teenager. 

So more casual clothing it was. Even if it did make him feel strange.

As he made his way toward the door, his phone vibrated. He reached into his pocket, withdrawing it and glancing at the screen. When he saw the name, he grimaced and pushed the cell back into his pocket.

He knew he would have to face his sister and the rest of his family eventually. 

He just… didn’t want to face them yet.

So he made his way outside and to where his car was parked. And while he had gone after countless criminals with nothing more than a flash of excitement and dogged determination… Lassiter suddenly found that he was nervous.

 

Later that day, he had completed his audition. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, and didn’t want to think about it too much. So he made his way to a local Starbucks and ordered a white chocolate mocha with caramel.

Was the amount of sugar healthy? No. Did he care? No, again.

He sat down near the window to watch the rain, lost in thought. As much as part of him hoped he would get the part… most of him still wanted to go back to the police department - he had been a detective for years, and a policeman for even longer before that. To have it all taken away from him - and with a shadow cast on his reputation that would be difficult to hide from police departments elsewhere in the country - was nearly as bad as losing a limb.

“Lassiiiiieeee.”

Oh, sweet Lady Justice. Please, no.

Lassiter didn’t look away from the puddles on the streets outside. “Spencer, if you’re here to gloat about the fact I was _fired_ , save it for another time.”

The other man slid into a chair across from Lassiter. “I can always gloat. I’m not here for that this time though.”

“Then what are you here for?” Lassiter ground out from between clenched teeth. He took another long sip of his beverage, refusing toi look directly at the self-proclaimed psychic.

“To remind you that you are an astounding detective.” Spencer kicked back in his seat, resting his feet on the table. 

 

Lassiter wrinkled his nose, moving further away from the wet, more than a little muddy sneakers. “Yeah. Right.”

“I mean it. So you got a bit snappy. Doesn’t mean you aren’t a good detective. It just means you’re a bit of a grouch,” Spencer replied. He took a packet of sugar someone had left on the table and ripped it open, pouring the sugar into his mouth. He promptly started to cough uncontrollably. “Wrong… wrong pipe…!” 

“Oh, for…” Lassiter rolled his eyes, setting his drink down and rising to his feet to walk over to Spencer, thumping him none-too-gently in the chest. “Will you knock it off.” 

Spencer made a choking sound at the impact of Lassiter’s fist against his chest, but he did stop coughing. He cleared his throat. “I think the sugar tried to kill me.”

“Or you’re just stupid,” Lassiter retorted with a sardonic smile. He reached over to pick up his drink and made his way to the door. He walked through the rain and to where he had parked his car, climbing inside. Droplets of water slid through his hair and down his face, and he reached up to wipe them away with his sleeve.

When he pulled his arm away from his eyes, there sat Spencer in the passenger seat.

“Dammit, Spencer…!” 

“Look, Lassie-face, I’m telling the truth,” Spencer insisted. “They were wrong to kick you off the force like that, and trust me, they will realise it.”

“Don’t go sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Lassiter replied dourly. When it was clear Spencer wasn’t going to leave the car, he sighed and started the engine. All he wanted was to go home, and waste the rest of the day watching reruns of _Cops_.

“I’m not. I’m just saying, they’ll realise it was stupid to fire you.” Spencer reached out to turn the radio on, only to yank his hand back when Lassiter swatted at it. “Geez, okay, fine, I’ll leave your precious music off.”

Lassiter made a noise in the back of his throat, slowing to a stop at a red light and taking the opportunity to dirnk more of his coffee.

Silence fell for a few moments - shocking, considering who was in the car. Then Lassiter spoke. “Where do you want to go? I’m not taking you home with me so you can rummage through my cupboards and eat my food.”

“You sure you don’t want the company?” The words were nonchalant… but why did they sound semi-genuine and not sarcastic?

“I’m sure,” Lassiter retorted. “Now where do you want to be dropped off?”

“Back at the Psych office, I guess,” Spencer replied. He opened the glove compartment, tilting his head to one side, and then withdrew a Chocolate Almond Fudge Clif bar. Before Lassiter could tell him to put it away, the other man had ripped the package open and started chewing on it.

Resisting the urge to cuff him upside the head, Lassiter grit his teeth and steered his car in the direction of the Psych office.

 

Later on, back in the comfort of his own home, Lassiter sprawled out on the sofa. He hadn’t bothered to take his outfit from earlier that morning off, opting instead to leave it on. Even that felt strange… the familiar weight of his shoulder holster was gone, leaving him feeling vulnerable. 

He was legally allowed to carry a gun, of course - but he hadn’t worn it to the auditions, for obvious reasons. 

After a few episodes of _Cops_ , the unsafe sensation became too much. Lassiter retreated to his room, taking off his jacket and strapping on his shoulder holster and favourite gun. More at ease now, he slipped back into his jacket.

It was 2pm now. Normally, he would be at work from 8am to 10pm. 

For the love of all holy things, what the hell was he supposed to do with all of this time?

His only solution was to enter the kitchen, make another cup of coffee, heat up leftover food - half of a margherita pizza and some french frieds - take a doughnut from a box on the counter, and return to the sofa to play the next episode of _Cops_.

A few hours - and a nap - later, he managed to drag himself off the sofa. He knew what he could do; job applications. It was nothing like paperwork, and it disgusted him; to return to doing a task that he hadn’t done since he was a messy-haired, useless teenager.

But it was better than flopping down onto the sofa or his bed and drowning in the despair that threatened to take over.

So he took the folder full of applications, his resumé, and his various cover letters - most of which he hadn’t looked at in years - and picked up a pen. 

He was Carlton Lassiter. And he would be damned if he didn’t get back on his feet. If he wanted something, he could get it. It would just take determination, patience, and hard work. 

And he would be fine.

Just like always.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, and that it's so short; I do promise that it will get longer as time goes on. And Juliet will be appearing soon, I promise! Leave feedback if you enjoyed or have anything you'd like to see in this particular fic - I'm always open to ideas!

When one is out of a job, with no real desire to spend time with other humans, sometimes one decides to sleep in.

At least, Lassiter was attempting to. After having woke up at 5am every day so that he could get to the police department early, sleeping in proved to be a very difficult feat. 

Most of the morning was spent in a half-doze, tossing and turning and praying for sleep to return. Occasionally it did, but never for long.

And then there was a knock at the door.

Groaning, Lassiter dragged himself out of bed, reaching for the closet and withdrawing a maroon shirt. He slipped into it, leaving the top two buttons undone, and tugged on a pair of jeans before going to the door.

Opening it, he saw no one at first. Then he glanced sideways and spotted a tall, dark-haired form walking away down the hall. “Hey. Did you need something?”

The man turned back, and Lassiter realised with mild surprise that it was Buzz McNab, an officer from the SPD, and one he was well-acquainted with.”Oh, hey, Lassiter. I thought maybe you weren’t at home.”

“No, I was just…” He waved a hand dismissively, not too keen on admitting that he had still been in bed. “I couldn’t get to the door right away. Now what is it?”

Buzz gave him the same bright smile he had given him every single morning at the department. “I just came by to say hi, since I don’t have work today.”

“Hi,” Lassiter said, not really having much of a response beyond that.

A long, slightly awkward silence fell. Then Lassiter remembered what one typically does when they have visitors. “Uh… do you want to come in? I was just about to make some coffee.”

“Yes, thanks!” Buzz walked into the apartment and looked around while Lassiter shut the door behind him. “And coffee? This late?”

Lassiter glanced at his wrist before realising he hadn’t put his watch on yet. Looking toward the oven, he noted the time there. “It’s 10:47. That’s not that late.”

Buzz gave him a quizzical look, and Lassiter could guess what he was thinking: that for Lassiter, 10:47 was almost late enough to be a sin. Instead of responding, Lassiter made his way over to the coffeemaker. “Do you want any?”

“Sure.”

“How do you take yours?”

“Two sugars and cream.”

“Got it.” 

“Do you want to go to Starbucks instead, though? If not, I thought maybe we could go to lunch together.”

Lassiter resisted the urge to sigh, holding the two empty mugs in his hands. For whatever reason, Buzz seemed to try to invite him to lunch more often than normal - if not for the fact the officer was happily married, Lassiter would have almost wondered whether it was a flirting technique.

But no; the officer was simply a very amiable person who wanted to befriend everyone he came across.

“No. I’ve already started the coffee here.” He started to give a negative response to the lunch offer as well, but then hesitated. And decided against it. “And sure. Where do you want to go?”

“I dunno. Anywhere you like, I don’t mind.” Buzz sat down at the table, resting his chin in his hand. “How about we just go out and pick a place we see on the way?”

“Fine by me.” Lassiter started making the coffee. 

As they sat and drank their coffee, Buzz talked about everything and nothing in particular, clearly attempting to defeat the silence. He spent at least forty minutes talking about his wife, and their dog, and about the vacation they had recently been on - Disneyland.

Lassiter tried to listen closely; he really did. But the fact of the matter was that when it came to the relationships of other people, and their vacations, he simply had no interest whatsoever. He never really had; at least, not since he had reached a certain point of his life. A point where love became something for fools, and vacations were useless in comparison to good hard work.

To his relief, Buzz eventually moved to other topics. He was running out of them, meaning the stretches of silence lasted longer each time; but the man was determined to keep conversation going. 

Typically, it annoyed Lassiter. But he had to admire Buzz’s tenacity; and besides, it wasn’t as though anyone else had come to visit him yet, barring Shawn Spencer - whom Lassiter didn’t feel up to interacting with right now, considering he never knew if the self-proclaimed psychic would gloat about the detective’s loss of a job.

So he didn’t tell Buzz off, and instead listened as best he could to the man’s stories and ramblings, even as they left his apartment and started walking around the city, searching for a place that looked good enough to go to for lunch. 

The two of them ended up at a small diner that Lassiter had never actually been to before, which surprised him - he often pulled all-nighters, at least back when he had been working with the police department, and the best places to go in the wee hours of the night for a bite were generally diners.

“So… how have you been?”

The question caught Lassiter off-guard; then he rolled his eyes. “Just fine, McNab. Just fine.”

The other man tiltd his head to one side, looking for all the world like a worried puppy. “Are you sure? I mean, after being head detective for so long…” He cut himself off there, as though it had only just occurred to him that what he was saying might be upsetting in some way, shape, or form.

It was, reminding Lassiter that - once again - he had screwed up. And this time, it had cost him dearly.

Instead of saying that, he took a swig of the coffee he had ordered. “Yep. Very sure.” The words were spoken with an edge that, while not overly unkind, made it crystal clear that he would not discuss the matter any further.

Buzz nodded, though the slightly uncertain expression on his face remained. He tapped the rim of his glass with one finger for a moment, and another silence fell. 

The waitress reappeared. She as pretty enough - probably somewhere in her 30s, wavy ginger hair pulled back into a ponytail, average build - but too cheery. It made Lassiter feel like he was squinting into the sun. In other words, the state of mind he found himself in was better suited to the Seattle rain, and he was not in the mood for brightness of any calibre.

“Are you boys ready to order?”

Lassiter hated it when people called him ‘boy’.

“Uh, yeah…” Buzz proceeded to order a salad, a rice dish, and some vegetables. At first, Lassiter found the order perplexing and less than appealing; then he recalled a conversation he had overheard at the department once, where Buzz had told a coworker that he was going vegetarian. 

Lassiter unashamedy ordered grilled salmon and shrimp linguine with a side of baked potato. 

As the waitress left with their orders, Lassiter could feel Buzz’s eyes on him and turned to meet his gaze. “What?”

Buzz shook his head, ducking down to take a sip of lemonade. 

“You obviously have something you want to say, McNab,” Lassiter said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “So spit it out.”

Buzz sighed, running a finger down the handle of the butter knife on the cloth napkin beside him. “Well, uh… I… never mind, it’s just pointless news, and it wasn’t why I came to visit you anyway, I just--”

“McNab!” It took all of Lassiter’s control not to bark the surname like he had so many times at the police department. “Stop beating around the bush. What’s the news?”

Another beat of silence fell. 

Carlton Lassiter rarely allowed himself to worry; or, at least, he rarely allowed himself to dwell on such things. But Buzz - his clear need to tell Lassiter something and his apparent fear of doing so - was definitely causing him to feel some level of concern.

Finally, Buzz spoke. “I… well, there’s a new head detective, and--”

“I knew that,” Lassiter retorted, clenching his jaw. He hadn’t actually known about it, and it stung - but it also did not come as a surprise, if he was honest about it.

“Well, yeah, but I thought you might want to know that he has a partner. Someone new; from Miami.”

Lassiter’s previous partner had quit a few months prior, and he had never received a new one he had mixed feelings about the entire situation Buzz brought up. Part of him - a small part - wondered if his being fired had actually been planned for longer than he had thought, and the chief had held out on giving him a new partner for that reason. 

_Stop being paranoid, Lassiter. That’s ridiculous._

“What do I care?” He leaned back in the red vinyl booth as the food arrived, giving the waitress room to set his dishes down in front of him.

Buzz grimaced, then smiled briefly up at the waitress. “Thanks.”

She grinned, told them to enjoy their food and to let her know if they needed anything, then left. The moment she did, Buzz’s expression fell again. He glanced back up at Lassiter. “See, I didn’t want to say anything; I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset!” Lassiter snapped. Then he realised just how loudly and - if he was honest - defensively he had spoken and scowled, mostly at himself.

Buzz frowned, the picture of unconvinced. “It’s okay to be upset, you know. I mean, I know I would be.”

“I’m not upset,” Lassiter grumbled, picking up his fork and starting to eat. The salmon was hot enough that he burned his tongue. Muttering a curse, he reached for the customary glass of ice water he had been given, downing half of it.

Buzz gave a quiet sigh, but didn’t press the matter any, forking a bite of caesar salad into his mouth. 

Neither of them spoke for some time, eating in vaguely awkward silence. Part of Lassiter wanted desperately to ask questions - to ask what this new detective was like, and why they had come to Seattle from Miami of all places, and whether he even knew that the head detective had been recently changed. He also wanted to ask whether the department was any better - or worse - off since he had left.

Instead, he said nothing.

They both paid for their own food - Lassiter had insisted, refusing to allow Buzz to pay for both their meals - and made their way back outside. The sky was overcast, as per usual, and the ground was splotched with dark patches. It had rained briefly while they were in the diner.

Lassiter idly scanned the sidewalks, pondering each of the people he saw and putting together what sort of lives he thought they might have. Some of them looked happy. Most of them looked neutral at best, and despondent at worst. 

As they made their way into his apartment building and toward the elevator, Lassiter wondered what strangers thought of him as they passed by. 

It was a frightening thought, because he felt fairly certain that whatever they thought was not positive.

“Can I say something? Last thing, I promise.”

Lassiter unlocked the door to his apartment, not looking up at Buzz. He didn’t respond verbally, instead opting for a shrug and opening the door, walking inside and leaving it ajar.

Buzz followed close behind. For a long moment, there was silence. Finally, Lassiter turned around to face the other man, eyebrows arched expectantly. 

“I just…” Buzz hesitated again, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “I just wanted to let you know that the department is a lot different with you gone.”

Lassiter grit his teeth. “If that was supposed to make me feel better, then you--”

Buzz spoke again, his words coming out in a rush. “No, no. It’s not--I meant… no. I meant that it’s a lot different with you gone, and--and not in a good way. It’s not the same, and everything is a bit more chaotic. And I guess I just wanted you to know that you’re missed, and if any of us had a say, we’d ask for you back in a heartbeat. Not that Detective Abrams isn’t a good detective, it’s just… you were better, I guess.”

Somehow, the confession did warm Lassiter’s heart a little. Not that he would admit it, even to himself; as far as he was concerned, he was imagining the way his heart swelled with pride. Even if the reminder that he had been replaced still stung.

“Of course I was.” He masked the emotions with arrogance, as always. 

Buzz appeared baffled for a moment, but then he grinned. “Yeah. Well, uh… I guess I’ll let you go. It was great seeing you; maybe we could do this again sometime.”

Lassiter’s only response was a shrug, though secretly he realised he wouldn’t mind too terribly if this sort of thing happened again. 

There was a moment of silence, and then Buzz nodded. “Have a good day. See you around.” He turned and made his way for the door.

Just as he opened it, Lassiter spoke again, unable to keep from asking the question on his mind any longer. “One more thing, McNab. This partner of Abrams’: what’s his name?”

Buzz glanced back. “Huh? Oh. They’re not a he; they’re a she. Her name is Juliet O’Hara.”

A woman. Just like his last partner, the one who had resigned. Why did that bother him?

“Huh.” He made no other comment beyond that. “Thanks, McNab.”

The other man nodded, then waved before leaving the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

Lassiter stared at the closed door for a long moment. Then he raked a hand through his hair and walked over to where his laptop rested on the sofa. 

It was time to do a bit of searching on this Juliet O’Hara character.


End file.
